


Trapped

by FleetofShippyShips



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anxiety, Anxious Draco, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, HP: EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hugs, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trapped in a Small Space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-28 00:28:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10819920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FleetofShippyShips/pseuds/FleetofShippyShips
Summary: Harry goes into one of the dangerous off-limits areas of the castle to be alone. Malfoy follows him and a wall collapse traps them in a small cupboard. Malfoy is panicking, and Harry tries to calm him down.





	Trapped

“For the first eleven years of my life, I slept in a cupboard under the stairs.”

Saying it out loud to Malfoy was strange. Only Ron and Hermione knew, although he suspected the other Weasleys knew at least some of it. But Malfoy was still panicking about being trapped in the small space they were in, and it was getting worrisome. Harry rather thought he should be uncomfortable too. Instead, he felt calm.

But Malfoy’s cries for help and useless attempts to break the door down were ruining that calm. They were starting making him anxious too even though he didn’t fear the small space.

“Most of the day too, until I started school,” he added, as an afterthought.

At last, some silence. Or, at least, Malfoy stopped his hysterics. His breathing was still harsh and loud, but now he was just staring at Harry, not that Harry looked back beyond a quick glance. He kept his eyes fixed on the opposite wall to the one he was sitting against.

Being trapped in any space with Malfoy was not ideal. Not now.

“I don’t believe you.”

Harry made a small huff of amusement. It was hard to comprehend how that kind of thing had once driven him to anger. “Believe what you like,” he said. “It’s the truth, and your belief or disbelief has no effect on it.”

“Why would your family make you live in a cupboard?” The scepticism was evident in Malfoy’s tone. Harry almost found it soothing. It was so very, very predictable.

“I spent many years wondering that,” he said. He really shouldn’t be telling Malfoy any of it. Once they got out he could run to every reporter he knew and sell the story. But he wanted to keep him distracted, to calm him down. His upbringing was surely shocking enough to distract him. “They didn’t want me. I was the child of freaks, sure to be one myself. I wasn’t worth more than a cupboard. They thought they could stamp the magic out of me.”

Harry looked over. Malfoy’s eyes were wide. He was starting to look more shocked than disbelieving.

“Probably all of those reasons and more.”

Malfoy’s breathing had calmed and Harry was relieved. He didn’t know how long they would be trapped in the small cupboard, and he didn’t want Malfoy to be freaking out the entire time.

He also couldn’t stand to see him so terrified.

But that was another matter.

“Why would you tell me that?” Malfoy’s voice was rough from all his screaming and the rasp of it made Harry shiver. “If it’s true,” Malfoy added.

Harry studied the way Malfoy was gnawing at his lip. He’d noticed him do that a lot lately. An anxious habit. Not his only one.

“We’ll be in here for a few hours at most,” he said. “When we don’t show up for dinner someone will come looking. They’ll find us, and then we’ll be out. So it’s not so bad. It could be worse.”

Malfoy’s hands were still shaking. Harry wanted to reach over and still them, but he didn’t want to risk Malfoy reacting violently to touch when they were trapped in such a small space.

“No one will come looking for me,” Malfoy said.

He probably meant to sound detached and uncaring about that. Instead, his voice wavered with the panic he’d been displaying since the moment they’d realised they were trapped.

“No one will come looking for you either.”

Harry looked away. Eventually they would. But it would be longer than a few hours.

“You shouldn’t have come in here,” he said. “It’s unstable. This whole wing of the castle is unstable.”

“Then why were you in here?” Malfoy asked. There was a shuffle, and then a rattle as he tried the door handle again.

Harry turned and watched his futile efforts. It had sounded like something had hit the door when the brickwork in the hallway had come away. It was highly likely that the door mechanisms were not what was trapping them.

“I like small spaces,” Harry murmured.

He’d always found that strange, after he’d come to Hogwarts. Instead of being welcoming, the large open space of the castle had made him feel so small, and so uncomfortable. He’d found his first small cupboard within his first week and everything had been better after that. Whenever everything seemed too big, he went to his cupboard and stayed there until everything felt normal again.

The older he got, and the more his childhood was discussed with Ron and Hermione, the more he felt like he should be terrified of small spaces, like Malfoy clearly was. Or maybe Malfoy was more afraid of being trapped.

Malfoy seemed to be afraid of a lot of things after he’d been released from Azkaban at the conclusion of the Death Eater trials.

It made it a lot easier to forgive him, and remember how scared he’d looked on the Astronomy Tower, and in Malfoy Manor. To remember he’d been just a boy like Harry was, put in a position of making decisions well beyond what was appropriate for their age.

It didn’t take away the pain of what he’d done, but it helped Harry to put it behind him.

The wand light illuminating them flickered and Harry looked to Malfoy’s wand, balancing on the shelves that lined one of the walls of the space. It wasn’t the first time it had wavered.

“You came to a dangerous wing of the castle to sit in a bloody cupboard?”

Malfoy’s voice reached a rather high pitch. Harry looked at his shaking hands again. He felt so calm but Malfoy was so scared. He couldn’t stand it.

“Why did you follow me?” he asked, unfolding himself and standing up.

The muscles of Malfoy’s jaws clenched. Harry swept his gaze over him. His hands were still shaking. Once, he would have enjoyed Malfoy’s fear. That sickened him now. He only wanted to calm him down. To comfort him.

Only three months left of their repeat seventh year, and he spent most of his time thinking about ways to make Malfoy feel better.

But he never did any of it. He doubted any of it would be welcome.

“I was curious to see why you were scurrying away into a forbidden zone of the castle,” Malfoy finally said.

“So you followed me right into danger?”

Harry’s smile seemed to irritate him, but that was better than seeing his fear.

“It’s your fault we’re trapped in here!” Malfoy hissed.

Harry leaned against the wall. He’d come to this small cupboard often that year. The forbidden zones of the castle were blessedly silent, and after clearing some of the debris from the small space, it had been a comforting hideaway for him. To get away from the attention, the praise. To get away from having killed Voldemort.

“No, it’s my fault _I’m_ trapped in here,” he said slowly. “It’s your fault _you’re_ trapped in here. For following me, right into this cupboard in fact.”

Malfoy’s shaking hands formed fists. Harry’s gaze darted down to the motion, and then back to Malfoy’s face. At one point, they would have fought, but he knew Malfoy wasn’t going to hit him. He looked defensive, not like he was actually about to lash out.

Most of all, he looked distracted from his fear.

“You’ve been staring at me more and more,” Malfoy said, after several, tense moments. “It’s become too ridiculous now. I was going to demand you explain yourself.”

Harry took a few breaths before answering. Malfoy matched the timing of his inhalations and exhalations. He was calming down.

“A lot of people stare at you.”

Usually because he always seemed on the edge of a panic attack. Every loud sound. Every sudden change in light. A wand being drawn.

Winter had scared him most of all.

Harry had hated watching Malfoy shivering, even beside by the fireplace of the common room all the seventh year repeaters shared. Shivering even under many layers of clothes. Like he’d never feel warm again.

Harry had fought hard to keep the Ministry from continuing to use Dementors. He wasn’t the only one. Eventually, they’d won that battle. But not until after the Death Eater trials were over.

“Just stop staring at me!” Malfoy hissed.

Harry tensed. Malfoy had stepped closer in his annoyance. The space was too small, it put them too close. Less than an arm’s length between them.

“No.”

Malfoy’s expression twisted. “No?”

Initially meant to distract him from his fear, now Harry was too eager for the opportunity to talk to him.

Trapped in a small space was the worst timing…and yet…he found himself speaking anyway.

“I won’t promise something when I know I can’t keep that promise.”

Malfoy’s face twisted through several expressions. His hands relaxed from their fists. They were finally still. No shaking.

He’d successfully distracted him.

“Why can’t you stop staring? Are you so amused by what you see?” Malfoy spat, his hands clenching into fists all over again. He took one step closer. It brought them almost flush together. Too close. Harry was starting to feel warm from the effort of staying perfectly still. “Malfoy the basket case. Mental Malfoy. I’ve heard what they call me!”

Harry had heard those too. That and so many other cruel names. It was mostly the younger students. Those their age knew better. So many of them had their own little, or big, anxieties to deal with. Taunting another for post-war fear and anxiety was crossing a line.

“Malfoy who has seen too much,” Harry said softly. “Malfoy who was brave enough to come back to Hogwarts anyway.”

Malfoy swallowed, his gaze darting to the side. His breathing was quickening again, and Harry wanted to curse himself. He’d pushed too far with this distraction.

A moment later and Malfoy had turned to face the door again. He cried out for help again. He banged on the door with his fists, rattled the handle. When they’d first realised they were trapped, he’d tried to use spells, but Harry had snatched his wand before he could. It was not wise to use spells in the forbidden zones of the castle. The very air was sensitive to magic. A lighting spell was already risky enough.

“Malfoy, stop!”

“I need to get out! I need to get out!”

It was a desperate sob, and Harry’s stomach clenched with sympathy. He could only imagine what horrors Malfoy must have seen amongst the Death Eaters to result in such fear.

Unwisely, he reached out, placing a hand on Malfoy’s shoulder.

Too fast to comprehend what was happening, Harry found himself slammed against the wall. One of Malfoy’s hands was on his throat, and the other pinning his right wrist to the wall.

Reeling from the sudden movement, Harry froze. He knew he shouldn’t have touched him, but the urge to calm him down had won out over his better sense. He wasn’t quite sure if he regretted doing it.

The hand on his throat was too tight, but Malfoy let him go after two long breaths.

As soon as he was released, Harry took some deep breaths of his own.

“How are you so calm?” Malfoy asked. He was back to sounding so scared.

Harry just wanted to reach out for him. Ron had taught him the value of physical contact for calming and comforting people, as far back as first year. Which had made sense, once Harry met Molly. He was so used to reaching out it that was ridiculously difficult to resist the urge with Malfoy.

“I spent most of my childhood locked in a cupboard smaller than this, remember?” he said gently, reaching out again.

Malfoy looked at his hand like it was a violent weapon, and it made Harry’s chest ache. What had Malfoy been through to make him so scared? It can’t have only been Azkaban or watching the Death Eaters at their sport.

“Why do you keep trying to touch me?” Malfoy took a step back. “Stay on your side.”

Harry let his hand fall.

Malfoy’s hands were shaking again.

“You’re scared,” he said softly. “Physical contact helps.”

Malfoy didn’t even try to deny his fear. Even after several months, it was odd. He was so different now.

“Oh, and you’re so eager to help me?” Malfoy sneered. His shaking voice ruining his attempt at disdain.

“Yes,” Harry said. “Why do you think I’ve been staring at you so much?”

Malfoy’s expression twisted. “Because you enjoy the sight of what being a Death Eater, and three months locked up in Azkaban because of it, did to me.”

Harry felt sick, hearing that. “No, Malfoy,” he said softly. “Because I’m worried about you. Because I want to help you feel better.”

Malfoy snorted and turned to face the door again. Harry didn’t make the mistake of trying to touch him again.

“Why would you worry about me?” Malfoy’s words were so quiet Harry almost didn’t hear them.

Perhaps he wasn’t meant to.

He took one step closer and Malfoy turned at the sound.

“No one should be so scared,” Harry said carefully. “I don’t like seeing you scared.”

After so many years of so much anger and hate from Malfoy, seeing him scared was just too strange. It was jarring and put him off-balance.

That was how it had started, at least.

It was different now.

Malfoy’s face twisted. “Merlin, are you listening to yourself, Potter?” he asked. He was still breathing too fast, his hands were still shaking.

Harry reached out for one. Malfoy didn’t stop him, but his expression contorted oddly when Harry took first one hand and then the other. Harry started breathing louder, slower. There was very little space between them, but Malfoy looked down at where their hands were linked with a peculiar expression.

Harry wondered how long it had been since someone had held his hand.

After a few moments, Malfoy’s hands stopped shaking, and his breathing started to match Harry’s again.

“I only want to make you feel better,” Harry said again. “I don’t like seeing you so scared.”

At first, he’d been horrified by this, once it had stopped being about how odd Malfoy’s fear had been. He hadn’t understood where it had come from, this caring, or why he should care for Malfoy at all after all that he had done. But over the months of their repeat year, watching Malfoy struggle with his anxieties and still stay, still work so hard, still come out top of most of his classes, he’d come to accept this odd compassion he had for his former rival. It wasn’t so strange now, for him to look at Malfoy and ache to hold him. To tell him that it would be alright, that he didn’t have to be afraid. That he wasn’t so alone.

Malfoy looked up again. They were still so close, and the minute shifts in his expression were so clear.

Still, Harry missed it. Still, he didn’t see it coming.

One second he was watching Malfoy’s eyes move as they mapped his expression, and the next, Malfoy was too close to focus on as their lips pressed together.

All too soon, Malfoy leaned back. He looked guarded, and still frightened. But it was a different kind of fear. Harry exhaled slowly and licked his lips. He hadn’t thought of doing that. But then, he’d been so fixated on Malfoy’s fear and his first thought had always been that he wanted to hold him.

That had always seemed to huge, so impossible.

Kissing wasn’t a terrible idea though.

But Malfoy had done it, not him.

“Was that why you were following me?” he asked.

Malfoy was rapidly searching his expression, and Harry was struck by how brave he was. They were trapped in a small space and Malfoy was terrified. Yet, he’d kissed Harry. With no real idea of how Harry would take it, with the knowledge they’d be trapped for a few more hours.

Harry had been struggling just to reach out and put a hand on his shoulder.

All year Malfoy had been proving himself far braver than Harry had ever imagined him to be.

“Maybe,” Malfoy said. He didn’t look so sure. A glance over his shoulder at the door had his hands shaking again, even though Harry still held them.

“Hey, don’t think about it,” Harry said, dropping his hands. He stepped closer as Malfoy turned to look back at him. This time, Malfoy didn’t shy away from his touch as Harry wrapped him in his arms and pulled him into a gentle hug. “We’ll be found in a few hours.”

Malfoy was stiff at first, but then, slowly, he relaxed. After a few more moments, his raised his arms and held Harry back.

“You’re lying to me about that,” Malfoy said, soft, but close to his ear.

“I disappear a lot to be alone,” Harry admitted. “I can cast a Patronus, but I don’t know how to make it carry a message. When I don’t show up for dinner, they’ll take note. When I’m not in the dorm a few hours after that, then they’ll look.”

Malfoy shivered in his arms. “It will take hours after that, unless they know of this place.”

Harry closed his eyes. Malfoy was tall enough that Harry’s head rested on his shoulder comfortably. “They don’t, but they’ll find us as soon as they know to look.”

Malfoy’s hands were no longer shaking where they rested on his back.

“How?”

Harry smiled. Another thing he probably shouldn’t tell him, but another brilliant distraction. “I have a magical map of Hogwarts. It shows the location of every person in the castle and on the grounds.”

Malfoy stiffened. Harry waited.

“Of course you do,” Malfoy finally said, sounding resigned.

Harry chuckled quietly. He’d thought of holding Malfoy in his anxiety for so long, but he hadn’t really thought about what it would be like. He was warm and comfortable. He was completely relaxed against him now. Like maybe he’d wanted it too.

Well, he’d just kissed him, so he probably had wanted this.

“When we get out of here, if you ever feel scared again you can come to me,” Harry said softly. “I won’t laugh at you, or tease you. I’ll just hold you, like this. I want to. I don’t like seeing you that way.”

Malfoy was quiet for a long time, and Harry’s spirits sank. He’d been fixating on Malfoy’s fear and wanting to comfort him for months. So long that it seemed so normal to him now. But Malfoy didn’t even seem sure if he was following Harry because some part of him wanted to kiss him, or because of some other reason.

But then Malfoy held him just a little tighter. “I’m always afraid.”

The strength it must have taken to say that made Harry’s chest ache. He should have approached him much earlier.

“Good thing we live in the same castle,” he said. “I’m never far away.”

“I suppose.”

Harry smiled. They stood in silence, holding each other. Malfoy’s breathing was even now, slow. He wasn’t shaking. Harry felt soothed, somewhere deep inside him. He’d finally acted on his desire to comfort him. But that wasn’t all.

“And if you want to, you can kiss me again too,” Harry said quietly.

There was another long silence, and Harry’s ears strained as he waited for a response. Kissing Malfoy was such a new thought, but even if he should have questioned it more, he knew he wanted it.

“We’ll see.”

Harry smiled. That was probably as good as a yes, coming from Malfoy.


End file.
